here upon this pillow made of reed and willow

7:54 p.m. x 2007-04-20

it is very hard sometimes. i think i'm a very good writer, or am at least very interested in making myself one, very determined to keep doing it. i'm almost always doing it, and thinking about things. it's important to me and i love it. it is difficult, though, to have no one to talk to about it. and i could just gently introduce my friends to it and tell them about it and then i'd have someone to talk to about it, you'd think, but i am really uncomfortable with that. because i don't write about things that are too great. i write about some pretty bad things, but if i was going to talk to someone about it, i would explain to them what it all means. it'd be a dream come true if i could do that, if i could talk to somebody about that.

i don't know if it'd work but maybe if i felt like somebody knew about all of that, i wouldn't feel the way that i feel when i'm feeling bad, or it wouldn't be quite so bad.

whenever i write something that isn't terribly upbeat or concentrating on any of the good things i have going on, i want to delete it and i usually do, but it'd probably be good if i just faced it. i think those feelings will go away faster.

if anybody should ask i'm going to a seminar
pieces of the moon
sensitive heart, you're doomed from the start
(& etc)

anybody can be just like me, obviously.
not too many can be like you, fortunately.
KL 02-11